Diabolus Irae
by Twilight Scribe
Summary: ...but the human spirit is weak, their memories as fleeting as morning mist. The hero who purchased their freedom with his own blood became but a legend, and over time, the legend became nothing but a fairytale.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Neither I, nor Blackmoon own Devil May Cry. It belongs to Capcom, for which we're eternally sorrowful.

A/N: Howdy folks! Tis I, Twilight Scribe. Now, before we get into this lovely DMC bloodbath I'd like to introduce the brains behind this fic. Aye, tis guest written by a dear friend of mine who doesn't have an account here and who goes by the name of Blackmoon. Now, on with the show. Enjoy.

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Chapter 1: Antelogium

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"He's right, you know. The worlds were once one, they should be joined again."

"They were separated for a reason."

"What? Are you afraid of a few simpering mortals? Some 'dark knight' you are."

Baphomet quickly stopped speaking when he found himself staring down a gun barrel. "That's NOT," stated Sparda tersely, "what I meant." The powerful demon sighed heavily, and pocketed his firearm. "Some pitiful upstart comes in and declares himself the Prince of the Demonic Realm? Cheh. I don't like it."

"Ha, look who thinks he's all high-and-mighty now!"

Sparda spun around and glared directly into Baphomet's eyes. The lesser devil quickly backed down. There are few laws in the Demon World, but one of the most prominent was that might controlled everything- and there were few that could stand up to Sparda in a fight. Content that he had shut his cohort up for the time being, Sparda relaxed and decided to lean against one of the stone structures in the ground. His heavy armor clattered as it came to rest against the hard stone. But nearly as soon as he had come to rest, the sea of blood about them seemed to come alive.

Baphomet reached for the dagger he kept in the sheath on his boot, but Sparda simply raised a hand to calm him. The bloody sea had begun to form into a rough shape, and congeal into a solid entity- an Abyss; a lesser demon, yes, but effective enough to keep others in line. Once it had fully formed, it kneeled before Sparda, and said in a rough, gravelly voice, "Sir Sparda, Lord Mundus has sent me as a messenger. He has stated that we are going to invade the human world soon, and that all demons from all reaches of the Netherworld are to be in attendance in his fortress."

"Ugh, that damned fool!" Sparda fumed, and shoved the Abyss out of the way as he stormed off. The Abyss scratched it's head in confusion with one blood-red hand, and Baphomet shrugged at him apologetically before running off after the Dark Knight.

The fallen angel Mundus gazed out over the ever-growing throng of demons and devils before him. He chuckled to himself as he reflected silently upon the sheer magnitude of what was about to happen- the Human and Demon Realms combined, and the darkness overthrowing the light. "Truly," he muttered, "it will be glorious." When a sufficient number of dark warriors and beasts had gathered, he spread his wings and threw his arms open.

"My brothers and sisters!" he called, his voice resonating over the masses. "Today, we embark upon something glorious. We will rise up, together, and FORCE our way into the realm of Light- those disgusting mortals have laid claim to it for far too long!" A cacophony of devilish cheers and hollers rose, a deafening display of what was to come. "Well, what say you? Shall we take it?" The cheers grew even more, and Mundus reveled in it, throwing back his head in unholy delight. He made a triumphant gesture toward the sky, and shouted out a barely-audible command- but the multitude understood the meaning nonetheless. Hundreds upon thousands of demons all opened up personal gateways to the world of men- some transporting themselves via sand or shadow, some choosing to travel through the aether, and some using the portals of other demons.

Sparda was running at full speed, his feet crashing loudly against the ground as he went; but, by the time he had gotten to the site of the gathering, he was too late. The last scores of demons were leaving, and only Mundus remained, glaring triumphantly over the massive courtyard. "MUNDUS!" shouted Sparda, drawing his sword and running even faster towards the so-called Prince of Darkness.

"Sparda! So glad you could make it! I was afraid you wouldn't be able to join the fun." Mundus crossed his arms and gave Sparda a cocky look. "Though, I suppose you won't be joining us. You've turned to the humans' side."

Sparda skidded to a halt at the base of the dais Mundus stood upon. The Dark Knight flexed his fists in rage, and shouted, "I don't care if you ARE the lord of the Demon World! I'm going to rip you limb from limb!"

Sparda raised his blade in preparation to fell his foe- and he would have, had Baphomet not come running and panting haphazardly into the courtyard. "Sparda! Wait!" The Dark Knight lowered his sword and stared angrily behind him at the source of the commotion. "Baphomet! Why are you trying to stop me?"

"Wait, hear me out on this one." As he approached the two powerful devils, he slowed his run and tried to catch his breath. Sparda stepped away from Mundus, but kept an eye on him warily. "Well?" he growled. "What is it?"

"Consider this… if you waste time on him, the demons will probably have already destroyed the humans, and this whole plan of yours will go to waste."

Sparda's gaze darted back and forth between Baphomet and Mundus, and after a while, he sighed in resignation. He put away his sword and pointed at the Dark Prince, saying, "Make no mistake, Mundus. I will return, and when I do, I will destroy you." With that, he stepped through a portal to the Human Realm.

After Sparda had left, Mundus smirked, and turned to Baphomet. "Admirable work, my servant. I'm sure I could have defeated a worthless traitor like him on my own, but now I have time to prepare for his return."

"No need, master Mundus. I shall see to it that he never comes back alive."

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A/N: I've been sent 3 chapters so far and I have no idea when the rest are due, so don't get your hearts set on regular updates. However, know that I will pester Sir Blackmoon until he finishes the story. You will have your ending, so swears Twilight Scribe! 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: DMC is not the property of Blackmoon or myself. I don't care what the yeti told you, it's not.

A/N:

Blackmoon: Alright… most sources agree the human-demon war in the DMC series happened 2000 years ago, but Sparda is generally credited as having guns… so I'm gonna give some artistic license and put it in a semi-modern era, and if you have a problem with that, then… deal with it.

Twilight Scribe: You heard the man, now read on with great suspension of disbelief.

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Chapter 2: Sanctus Bellum

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Sparda knew, firsthand, the power of the demons that ran rampant in the Underworld- but how quickly they had worked surprised even him. By the time he had arrived in the mortal world, it had already become a mess. What had once been a large, thriving city was now a burning ruin. The demons who had lain siege to it still remained, and the few humans still alive were likely cowering in their homes, waiting for death. No mortal could stand up to them.

"Ah! I see the Dark Knight has finally joined us!" called out one of the Hellkeepers. Sparda drew his sword and pointed it at the demon who had spoken. "No, pitiful worm. I am here to destroy you." Taking offense to this, several of the surrounding Hellkeepers withdrew scythes from their robes and began to circle around the Dark Knight. One lunged at Sparda from the side, swung its scythe, and was flung back through the air in an instant, colliding with a building and dissolving into sand.

Sparda stood with his gun Luce in his left hand, pointed at where the Hellkeeper had attacked from. He twirled it around his index finger and pointed it at another, who began to back away, startled. Sparda narrowed his eyes, buried a round in the demon's skull, and charged forward to cleave it in half with his sword. It collapsed before him, and fell apart in a cloud of sand as it hit the ground; the remaining demons turned heel and ran in terror at the sight.

Putting away his sword and gun, Sparda growled. "Run this time- I will find and exterminate you nonetheless." He glared off in the distance, and began to walk through the rubble of the city.

Across town, the Pride Hellkeepers who had fled from the Dark Knight approached a ruined building; the front had been almost entirely demolished, and most of the upper floors had been removed to create a massive enclosure. The Prides had come to seek the aid of the only devil who resided in the building, and had claimed it as his base of operations- a massive, grotesque creature dubbed Beowulf.

As the Prides approached, Beowulf turned to face them. "What do you want?" he growled. The lesser demons cringed and reported what had happened. "That filth Sparda's ego has gotten the best of him, it seems. I shall deal with the traitor myself." He flared with a demonic light, and glowing spectral wings emerged from his back. Beowulf crouched, pounced, and with the aid of his devil's wings, leapt across the city to crush the Dark Knight Sparda.

Four more demons collapsed and dissolved at Sparda's feet. "This is almost too easy," he muttered to himself. He walked out of the crushed door of the building into the street. Faintly, he realized he heard a pounding sound off in the distance, growing in volume. He turned slowly to face the source of the sound, and saw a massive beast leaping across the buildings. Sparda stepped back and drew his sword.

"I take back what I said about this being easy."

"SPARDA!" cried out the beast. A great shadow passed over the street, and Beowulf landed with a crash on the corner. "Traitorous filth! I will remove your odious scent from this world!"

Sparda lowered his stance, with his blade out to the side; "You can't possibly hope to defeat me."

Beowulf roared ferociously, and pounced at the Dark Knight; at the last moment, however, Sparda leapt into the air, grabbed the flesh upon the beast's shoulder, and threw himself onto its back. Beowulf howled in anger, halted, and pawed at his backside to try and remove the unwanted pest, to no avail. Sparda held on despite the disturbance, cut the paw of the monster to keep him at bay, and drove his blade deep into its back. The aberration reared back in agony, and Sparda leapt off onto the front of a collapsed building.

Blinded with rage, Beowulf seemed to glow once more with demonic power. "I WILL CRUSH YOU!" he howled, and buried his fist into the building. But Sparda was too quick- he jumped out of the way of the attack and onto Beowulf's forearm. Before he could react, however, the Dark Knight leapt off of the beast's arm and over its head- holding his sword out all the while, and gouging deep into Beowulf's left eye, depriving him of most of his eyesight.

Sparda landed on the other side of the street, twirled his sword, and sheathed it, turning to face his crippled foe, who was roaring in agony and clutching its eye. "Sparda, you filth! I will remember your putrid scent, and I will hunt you down through eternity if I must! You have not seen the last of me!" And with that, it leapt off into the distance once more, yowling and shedding blood wherever it went.

"Hmph. Pitiful devil. I doubt I shall see him again anytime soon." The Dark Knight, satisfied in his victory over his foe, turned and went deeper into the city, to begin his holy war against his own kind.

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A/N: Alright, it seems Blackmoon has refused to do author's notes. That message up there about the guns is the only one he'll ever write. Cherish it, cherish it with all your heart! In other news: Killing slow's the way I conquer, until you know the meaning of suffer...


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not ours. And, due to copyright laws, I don't really have to type this because I'm _not_ making a profit from this material. I wonder why I keep doing it though...

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Chapter 3: Nix Ortus

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The hinges of the library door groaned and creaked as Sparda's black hand pushed it open. A gust of cool air escaped the structure, which had remarkably been left nearly intact. He entered warily- not a sound came from within the building, and he had barely heard anything since the encounter with Beowulf. 

Shafts of light fell in through holes in the high ceiling, illuminating patches of the room. The only thing that could be heard was Sparda's armor, clinking quietly as he stepped in, hand on his sword. There was a skittering noise in the shadow, and something moved out of the corner of his eye- but when he turned to face it, it had gone. The Dark Knight narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but kept moving forward. Then, it happened again.

Something moved in the darkness- Sparda drew his blade, and the light gleamed off of it, illuminating the room like the light of God. That was when he saw his foe. It hovered up from the ground, clad in a pitch-black robe and wielding… a monstrous pair of scissors. Whatever it was cackled malevolently and dove for the Dark Knight, intending to sever his head on the spot.

Taken by surprise, he ducked under the maddened demon's attack, but seized it by the robe as it passed over him. The scissor-wielding hellion jerked violently, and wrenched back and forth in an attempt to free itself, but to no avail. Sparda ran it through with his sword and launched the demon through the air towards the door. The shrieking missile crashed and splintered the wood, and Sparda, thinking himself the victor, turned and sheathed his blade. But he turned in confusion at the sound of shifting rubble, and saw the demon rising once more and preparing to attack.

He crouched down in a ready pose, set to respond, when he noticed something different- the impact had torn off the hood of the creature's robe, and exposed an almost mask-like white skull atop its shoulders. It shrieked and charged him again, but the Dark Knight was ready- he leapt at the same time, and, in a daring move, seized the lesser demon by the head with his bare hand, taking it by surprise and driving it to the ground.

Its scissors clattered to the ground where the two had collided, and Sparda stared evilly into the face of the panicking beast. It attempted to wrestle itself free of the great devil's grasp, but he calmly drew his sword with a free hand and drove it into the specter's skull. It froze in horror, then collapsed, silenced, against the ground. Sparda withdrew his blade, sheathed it, and continued into the confines of the library.

Mundus stood in a room in one of the upper spires of his castle; it was in this room that he kept a Divining Pool, which he now used to observe Sparda's progress. He grinned at the victory over the Sin Scissors, then raised his hand and snapped his fingers sharply.

There was a burst of black smoke, and a ghoulish howl, and a great specter- skeletal, clad in a black robe, and wielding a massive scythe- appeared in the room with him. "You see that devil?" queried Mundus, pointing to the image of Sparda in the pool. The beast nodded its assent. "I want you to find him, and kill him. And make sure you put up a good fight, too." It nodded and howled once more, and in a burst of smoke, was gone.

Mundus crossed his arms and stared deeply into the pool. "Well, now… this should be entertaining."

To Sparda's chagrin, the back of the library had collapsed, sealing up the back door completely- the only exit was onto the roof, through the rubble.

Once he was topside, he surveyed the route he would be taking through the city. The last of the demons would reside in the last few blocks of the town, and by heading north, he could cover them and reach the train to the next city. He sighed and began to give up hope of defeating the darkness before it overtook the light.

As though in response to his thoughts, clouds moved overhead, blotting out the sun and chilling Sparda to the bone. He heard a "bamf" behind him, and wheeled around in time to see a screeching demon with a scythe appear seemingly from thin air. "A Vanguard! Is this Mundus' work?" he spat, and drew his blade in preparation for the battle- but just as soon as it appeared, the Vanguard vanished again.

"Where--?" muttered Sparda, but his eyes widened with horror as he heard what sounded to be a church bell in the distance. It was then that he remembered the true strength of the Vanguard- teleportation. In an instant, he seemed to be enveloped in an inky black cloud, and saw only a glowing scythe blade hurtling down at him from above. His inhuman speed allowed him to react just in time, deflecting the attack with his sword.

He decided to use the moment of vulnerability to his advantage, and lunged forward with his blade, but met with no resistance, and the black cloud dissipated. He cursed in rage, and heard once more the tolling of the church bell. Sparda's eyes darted back and forth, searching for the Vanguard's next point of attack, when he noticed the ground beneath him shifting and rippling like water.

The Dark Knight dove out of the way with only a split second to spare- the Vanguard burst from the ground as though it weren't there, twirling its scythe overhead in a frenzy of death as the phantom assassin flew into the air. Sparda scowled in righteous anger and leapt for the Vanguard, seizing its robes and becoming airborne. He plunged his sword into the beast once, twice, three times- but then there was a cloud of smoke, and he fell out of the air towards the ground like a rock.

The Vanguard appeared on the ground below, whirling the scythe above its head like the blade of a massive blender. In a flash of inspiration, Sparda righted himself in midair, slowed his descent in midair, and landed upon the haft of the scythe, taking the Vanguard by surprise and ceasing its attack abruptly. Deftly manipulating the opportunity once more, he balanced himself on the scythe, leaned down, and pierced the head of the great demon repeatedly. It howled in pain, but did not fall, confounding the Dark Knight, who redoubled his efforts. The distant church bell sounded again, and Sparda realized the connection- he leapt into the air just as the Vanguard vanished in smoke, confirming his suspicion.

This time, it appeared across from him, flying head-first and slashing its scythe haphazardly. Sparda leapt upwards to avoid the assault, but not soon enough- one of the attacks clipped his leg, digging a gouge into the armor and sending Sparda reeling head over heel. He managed to land on his feet, and the Vanguard stopped and turned a stone's throw away. The Dark Knight turned in rage as the phantom shrieked, reveling in its minor victory. Sparda raised his sword to his shoulder, focused his demonic power, and sent the blade spinning across the rooftop at his adversary- it severed the Vanguard's body from its legs, cutting it in half, and landed with a "chink" in an adjacent wall.

The Vanguard's victorious shriek stopped abruptly as it realized what had happened, and with a cloud of smoke and darkness, crumpled upon itself, dead. Panting lightly, Sparda stood upright, walked calmly over the desiccated corpse of the beast, and retrieved his blade from where it had embedded itself in the wall. He sheathed it, walked to the edge of the building, and leapt off into the street, heading north as per his plan.

Mundus grinned, satisfied. Baphomet had joined him, and was watching as well. "Did you truly expect the Vanguard to best the Dark Knight in single combat?" asked Baphomet.

"No, of course not. It was merely… a test of his skills. I needed to see him in combat against a stronger foe, to get an accurate gauge of his true power. It seems the tales about him are true." Mundus folded his wings behind his back and turned to Baphomet. "But for now, I believe you should prepare to face him. He will have a harder time attacking a friend than a foe."

The lesser demon bowed his horned head, and left the tower to prepare himself for battle. Mundus waved a hand over the Divining Pool, and brought up the image of a tall, gaunt demon with a gray blindfold and a ragged robe. "Razakel," spoke Mundus through the aether to the demon, "you're going to have an… uninvited guest soon. I want you to deal with him in the usual fashion." The demon Razakel kneeled and chuckled grimly.

Mundus smirked back, and said, "Excellent." He waved his hand over the portal once more and it showed Sparda once more. "And now the fun begins."

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A/N: If any of you were wondering why I called my disclaimer unneccesary, here are some points that Blackmoon shared with me. (And he is knowledgeable on this subject. Being the creator of a sprite comic where copyright infringement is a daily threat will do that for you.) 

Blackmoon Logic:

1) Disclaimers are cliche and clutter the page.  
2) Even some low-level rhesus monkeys could probably figure out I'm not a Capcom exec and that I did not create Sparda or Mundus or the Vanguards or anything of the sort.  
3) Legal issues don't even come into it, because fanfiction, as it is not a public work like a TV show, falls under the 'fair use' clause of Capcom's characters and concepts, stating that if it's for education or non-profit entertainment, you can use whatever you feel like, and don't necessarily have to credit them.

Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: YEAH! Chapter four, up and ready to go. I gotta say, Blackmoon's been pretty good about keeping up in his writing. I award him a plate of cookies and many thanks.

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Chapter 4: Ater Furor Resurrectio

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Sparda's sword flashed like lightning in the fading light, and the last demon in the city fell, deceased, at his feet. It had not taken long, but he had waded through the first wave of Hell itself, and had reached his objective- the train station at the far end of town. As to whether or not the train would actually function… well, that remained to be seen.

The lights in the station flickered off and on; not a soul seemed to inhabit the building. Oddly enough, the lights were still on in the train- it seemed to be, at the very least, running. The doors to the train opened, seemingly by themselves. Sparda drew his sword and warily stepped about the conveyance. The doors slammed shut behind him, and he seized a hand rail to maintain his balance as the train lurched to a start. All of a sudden, the intercom crackled to life, and a sibilant voice dripping with dementia arose over the static: "All aboard! Keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times! Now leaving- one-way trip straight to Hell!" The voice cackled with madness, and the intercom cut off.

The train was rattling and shaking violently, and Sparda realized that without a proper footing, he would be at a disadvantage in any fight where he was restricted to his sword. He put it away, and no sooner than he wielded Luce and Ombra, a loud crashing sound came from the next car. Sparda turned to face it, and a great feline monster, black as night, burst from the door. Its razor-like talons dug into the steel flooring of the train, giving it a solid foothold despite the turbulence.

Sparda swung himself around and leapt from the handrail, landing on the shade's back. It hissed malevolently, but Sparda kept his balance and fired off a succession of pistol rounds into the back of its head. The cat writhed wildly, the projectile attack disrupting its demonic power and dispersing the shadows from which is was made. A further salvo of bullets silenced it once and for all, and Sparda slowly worked his way up the train car towards the front.

The intercom flickered to life again, and the sibilant voice from before spoke once more.

"Hmmm… not a cat person, eh, Sparda? Ha ha! Well then, let's see how you like my other pets!"

The Dark Knight pushed open the door to the car, but soon wished he hadn't. The back of the next car was torn apart like paper and tossed aside, and an elephantine spider, white and glowing like hellfire, burst from it shortly after. It let out a shriek, and Sparda holstered a single gun in favor of his sword. The arachnid demon swiped at Sparda with a single massive leg, and in response, the Dark Knight leapt forward over the attack limb to use the spider's head as a springboard and launch himself onto the next car.

The enraged arachnid recovered quickly, and clawed its way out of the car to try and maneuver itself towards Sparda. However, when it crawled atop to where the great devil had jumped, the spider got a great surprise- or, to be more specific, four feet of sharpened steel to the face. It howled in rage, and clawed blindly at the car, despite having lost half of its eyesight. But to Sparda's great surprise, it was not blood or sand that the beast bled- instead, a torrent of burning magma burst from the wound and onto Sparda's armor, eating away holes in parts, but not deep enough to cause any major damage.

"Hmph. It appears I'll have to be more careful."

The spider began to use wilder and more unpredictable tactics in an attempt to get through Sparda's defenses, but every claw strike was met and parried with the flash of a blade and a torrent of burning blood. The more damage it took, the sloppier the spider's fight became. By the end of it all, the train car had mostly been melted by the magma, and the spider, exhausted and near death, simply rolled off of it into the field next to the train.

Sparda turned around and saw that the engine of the train- no doubt where the 'conductor' was staying- was the next car up. He leapt for the car, and went for the door- but as soon as he laid his hand on the handle, the world seemed to shift and warp around him. He stumbled back, disoriented, everything spinning around, and the door threw itself open, revealing an emaciated, blindfolded man in a robe, leaning against the entrance and grinning madly. "The name is Razakel, the demon of madness. I hope you like my little illusion- I always did believe in giving people a show before they die."

The world spun again, and Sparda felt as though he was going to fall off the train soon. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on Razakel's mocking laughter. Without his eyes to deceive him, Sparda felt slightly less disoriented. He stepped slowly forward, trying to measure his movements. But even now, the so-called demon of madness was working his powers to malevolent effect. The inside of the Dark Knight's mind was filled with images of the Demon World, and of devils of all shapes and sizes moving to attack him.

He swung at the phantasms, too blinded by his shock to remember that it was merely an illusion. Razakel's maddened laughter pierced the air, but from where, Sparda was unsure. As the devil's great blade sliced through the illusions, connecting with nothing, he swore he felt the ground move beneath him. Sparda stumbled and collided, headlong, with the train car, dizzying him, but at the same time, clearing away the illusion of hell that he was subject to. Razakel quickly resumed the mental torment, but the Dark Knight had caught a glimpse of his bearings. He lunged forward, through the phantom beasts, attempting to skewer his foe in a single attack. Razakel, though, unhindered by hallucination, sidestepped the maneuver and cackled in Sparda's face.

Sparda grasped at thin air, seeking the foe merely inches from his head. "You'll never catch me like that, devil! Gyahahahaa!" Revolting images of decay, death, maggots, and pestilence played through Sparda's addled mind as he attempted to cut down the opponent he could not see. Meanwhile, his foe danced around the mad slashes as though they came from a mere amateur. But that supposed amateur, in his frenzy, managed to strike the hand-brake of the train.

The great conveyance lurched to a halt, sending Sparda head-over-heels into the conductor's box, and smashing Razakel's face against the wall of the same cabin. Now, any mere mortal would have been done in by such an occurrence; but these were powerful demons, and as such, were barely dazed.

Razakel stood, shaking his head in confusion over what had happened, and trying to stop the world from tilting in his mind. But Sparda had already regained his footing.

The Demon of Madness didn't hear the clink of the gauntlets as the Dark Knight stepped up. And, to his benefit, he barely had time to register what happened when Sparda seized his face from behind and liquefied Razakel's skull against the train car.

"Last stop," said Sparda grimly as he wiped his hand clean, and jumped off the train to head to his destination on foot. It wasn't too far off, and he could simply follow the train tracks the rest of the way.

The cleansing could continue once more.

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A/N: Is it just me, or is Razakel a beautiful name...? 


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter Five: Terra Insanctio

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The sound Sparda's boots made when treading upon the soft ground was similar to change being shaken in a cloth bag- metallic and sharp, but at the same time, muffled and diminished. The demonic invasion of the mortal world had left very few survivors- even in the local flora. Much of the grass had been withered or burned away, and any trees there were had lost most of their leaves. 

It was like a graveyard in the latter months of the year- an appropriate enough simile, as much of the world was little more than a morgue.

Sparda's blood boiled with rage at the thought. He picked up his pace, moving northward to the next human settlement. He'd be able to make it within the hour, provided he met with little resistance. Almost as if in an effort to probe this point, more and more of Mundus' unholy flock attempted to stop the Dark Knight's quest by forming from the dirt and sand around him, only to be cut down and obliterated again and again.

At the city limits, Sparda encountered an immense hill, a veritable dome of earth and vegetation. As he strode towards the apex of the mound, it rose from the ground about it as though it were a living being, causing Sparda to get a handhold on the loose plants in order to avoid falling off.

Of course, while demons are sentient, whether or not they actually live is debatable; hopefully this one would provide a more conclusive answer when it forced Sparda to retaliate. The earthen monstrosity spoke, only once, in a low, gravelly voice:

"Sparda… I am… Belial… Mundus bid me… destroy you… prepare for destruction."

Though verbose the demon was not, it made up for it in its great power. Belial wheeled around slowly, but his size created enough centrifugal force to send Sparda flying. As Sparda spread his gossamer wings, he drew his twin guns and opened fire on his adversary- to no visible reaction. The bullets simply took divots out of Belial's hide and buried themselves among the moving soil.

Belial was clearly unfazed by the removal of his own matter, as he demonstrated by removing a great clump of dirt from his body and hurling it at Sparda. The Dark Knight countered by holstering his firearms and, in a display of brutish strength, punching straight through the flying debris and sending it into hundreds of pieces. Unfortunately, that course of action was not well thought-out.

Some of the earth that had come loose had lodged itself on Sparda's bracers, and it now glowed with a demonic aura. His arm suddenly felt as though it weighed thousands of tons, and dropped to the ground like a lead weight, pulling Sparda with it. Incapable of moving his arm for an extended period, he was reduced to fighting with just his left- and if Belial displayed these sorts of powers, the Dark Knight clearly had a problem on his hands.

The demon of the earth began lumbering towards Sparda, who was desperately trying to focus his own demonic energy, in an effort to at least summon a burst of superhuman strength that might free him. Success! As Belial raised his mammoth hand high, Sparda's power burst forth, dissolving away the cursed earth, allowing the devil to move out of the way of Belial's finishing blow.

Sparda seemed ablaze with violet fire as his unholy aura surged forth. He moved with blinding speed, drawing his sword and leaping into the air to plunge the blade into Belial's ill-defined torso. He continued his upward movement by running up the length of the earth demon, carving a deep gouge along the way, and finally arriving at the location where one would suppose Belial's head, were there any, lay.

Dirt and mud sprayed into the air like ichor, and Sparda deftly rolled out of the way as to avoid being weighed down by it again. But the featureless nemesis was undaunted, and swatted at Sparda as one might a fly; the momentum of the blow would normally have been enough to send him hurtling through the air, but instead, he dug his heels into the ground and resisted, slowing gradually to a halt. Belial uttered a grunt of confusion, and Sparda leapt again, this time cleaving the hand from the tree-like arm of the beast.

The severed limb slowly began crumbling and falling apart, becoming nearly indistinguishable from the ground around it. The fighting went on like this for quite some time, first one opponent making an attack, and then the other. However, each time, Sparda arose, victorious, whittling down his opponent a little more, bit by bit. By the end, nothing remained of his foe, and Sparda's demon powers were nearly spent; he fell to his knees, panting, and elected to resume the journey soon, when he had fully recovered.

From his keep, Mundus watched the Dark Knight as he rested. "It seems Belial was not as hopeless as we had wagered." Baphomet nodded his head sagely, and added, "Yes… his unique powers were surprisingly useful against even Sparda."

There followed a contemplative silence; it was only for a minute, but the tension made it seem like ages. Finally, Mundus broke the silence.

"Baphomet."

"M'lord?"

"I would like you to go check up on our friend Sparda."

"Y-…. Yes… my lord."

"Good man."

Baphomet scurried off from Mundus' observatory; the greater devil remained there in thought, almost seeming to gaze beyond the pool and the stone, into the ether. "Well," he said to himself, "this should provide some interesting entertainment."

* * *

A/N:

Blackmoon: That bit where Sparda uses his own power to free himself felt like a deus ex machina to me... or would that be diabolus ex machina?

T. Scribe: It's all in your head. All of it. ... There is no spoon.


	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter Six: Amarus Traditio

* * *

"Die, traitorous filth! I'll ki—!" The hellkeeper's ultimatum was cut short- well, the entire hellkeeper was. Sparda cleaved the robed creature in half just as it raised its scythe to attack, and it collapsed in a cloud of sand. By Sparda's count, that was the last beast in the city; thus, it came as a bit of a surprise to him when he heard the soft slapping of boot-leather on cement approaching quickly. He turned on heel and aimed his blade at the fresh meat to find...

"Baphomet!" Sparda called out. "What are you doing here?"

Baphomet came to a halt near the Dark Knight, out of breath and nearly doubled over from fatigue. "I... pant... came to... wheeze... tell you something important... Mundus is planning... some sort of... pant... surprise attack, I think." The rage in Sparda's black features was clear. "What!?" he snarled in his fury and disbelief.

The lesser devil nodded grimly. "I can open a portal to the Demon World- we'll surprise them and counterattack before they can get anywhere."

He waved his clawed hand and a glowing vermilion sigil appeared in the air; it flashed briefly, and space warped, appearing as a hole into the Demon World. "Follow me!" Baphomet beckoned and scuttled through the gateway. Sparda followed close behind. However, he was not fully prepared for what awaited on the other side.

As soon as Sparda was through, the portal sealed itself with a flash. Baphomet had already drawn the knife from his boot, and turning, leapt at Sparda with intent to kill. Sparda gasped in shock, grabbed Baphomet's attacking hand, and threw him into a tombstone in the bloody field. It cracked and fell apart, and Baphomet rose from the rubble, his demonic aura becoming visible. Sparda drew his sword, and muttered only two words: "Baphomet... why...?"

The lack of any sound but Baphomet's boots in the blood marsh spoke volumes.

Mundus crossed his arms and chuckled appreciatively. "Impressive work, Baphomet. Devious. In any case, though, I rather doubt you shall win this fight... and that falls directly into my plan."

Baphomet had since passed into full demon mode- his black wings were unfurled and his musculature had doubled in size. Sparda has not changed his power output. No matter how powerful Baphomet became, he could not best the Dark Knight. Each knife thrust was countered by a sidestep or a powerful riposte. Baphomet leapt into the fray once more, cutting frantically. Sparda merely sidestepped the first two blows, and allowed the last to strike his armor- the knife became lodged within the plating of the armor, and Baphomet could not get it free.

Sparda took the opening and slammed his massive gauntlet into the smaller devil's face. There was a hideous, grisly crunch, and Baphomet was launched deep into the blood-marsh, sending the vital fluid spraying into the air. He bolted up in terror, and scuttled backwards, realizing that it was impossible to prevail. He shouted something manic into the air, and the marsh bubbled. A triad of Abyss demons burst from the bloody sea, and Baphomet turned to run towards Mundus' stronghold.

Sparda bristled with rage, and charged towards the Abysses. He sliced through the three in a spray of blood, but Baphomet was already gone. Sparda growled, gnashed his teeth, and took off towards the fortress as fast as his feet could take him.

Baphomet stumbled, panting and out of breath, into Mundus' private scrying chamber. "Lord Mundus, I—"

"Quiet, Baphomet."

"Milord?"

"I am... quite disappointed in you." Mundus uncrossed his arms and began to move, slowly, towards his subordinate, folding his wings so that they would take up less space. "In all honesty... I never expected you to win."

The look of crestfallen shame and mixed horror on Baphomet's face was priceless. "Lord, I... how could...?"

"Silence, Baphomet." The pitiful devil shut his mouth, though it slowly gaped back open again. Mundus had stepped directly in front of him by this point. "Although I had never expected you to win... I HAD expected you to die. My plans shall not be interrupted by your cowardice."

Baphomet stammered piteously, but Mundus merely held up a hand. A wave of black energy erupted from his palm, and only a smoking stump was left where Baphomet's head was. He collapsed to the floor with a thud, and gradually burnt away into ash.

"And thus, only one supporter of that fool Sparda remains... Sparda himself."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Chapter Six: Pervador ab Abyssus

* * *

Sparda had reached Mundus' keep, but he did not slow down. He sprinted through the colossal courtyard the invasion had begun from, his boots a thundering cacophony in the otherwise silent void. He reached the main gate, but did not bother to take it- it would only slow his pursuit of his enemies. Sparda leapt with unholy fervor onto one of the massive stone sculptures, then to another, vaulting higher and higher. At the apex, he jumped, turned in midair, and landed a solid kick on one of the stained glass windows on the third floor. The black warrior landed in a crouch on the bare stone floor, pausing so as to regain his breath. He was inside.

Sparda knew his way around the castle- it had not always been Mundus', after all. The upstart Prince of Darkness had barged in and subjugated the demons that had taken up residence there, and declared it his own personal base of operations. And if Sparda knew anything about his quarry, and the terrain, Mundus would've taken the chamber on the fifth floor as the heart of his empire.

But as for the matter at hand- Mundus would not let himself go totally unguarded, and a shattering window is bound to attract attention from anything with half a mind, especially if a shard of glass happens to strike them in the face. Several Hellkeepers that were in repose in that room had awoken with a start upon Sparda's arrival, one of them- a Lust keeper- having caught some of the flying debris in his eye socket. The Prides howled in a mix of anger, resentment, and general malice as they picked up their scythes.

Sparda's response was in typical form. He grabbed the sword from his back and flung it into the crowd, spinning like a discus. As his foes were rent asunder, Sparda leapt into the crowd of survivors, landing on the head of a very shocked Gluttony and taking it to the ground. The Dark Knight let an incoming scythe blow glance off of his heavy armor, seized the weapon from its wielder, and tripped the hapless Hellkeeper with the handle.

Sparda brought the scythe around into a proper position and severed the torso of its former user, and continuing the attack by swinging the blade in a wide arc, cleaving the remaining demons apart in a whirlwind of death. Sparda dropped the scythe on the ground and stepped out of the cloud of sand, pulling his own blade from the wall. A Sloth Hellkeeper had come to investigate the noise and stood in shocked silence at the scene of carnage it had just beheld. Sparda turned on heel slowly and stared the Sloth right in the eye- it dropped its weapon in sheer terror and ran, disappearing in a cloud of sand.

Mundus sat in quiet meditation in the center of his private quarters. The chamber had been set up in the manner of an inverted amphitheater; the entrance led to a series of stairs which surrounded the perimeter of a great stage. The reliefs of demonic images seemed to observe him from their place in the ceiling, and the nine angelic statues positioned around the edge of the massive dais looked on, mute. The silence was abruptly broken by the Sloth Sparda had frightened away before, who came charging into the room, babbling something in a deep, coarse voice.

Mundus slowly raised his head and stood up as the Sloth ran up the stairs and prostrated itself before the Dark Prince. The creature continued gibbering incoherently, but Mundus stopped it short with a short, terse, "Quiet." As the Sloth looked upward, Mundus punched downward through its skull, crushing it into dust. He caught the collapsing body with his foot and kicked it into the far wall, where it dissolved into sand.

"Excellent... I had begun to fear my skills had grown weak in the long absence of any opposition."

Sparda rolled out of the way of the stream of webbing the Arachne had attempted to entrap him in, almost laughing at the feeble attempt. He stood up and wheeled around, charging towards the large spider and pinning it to the wall with his sword. He finished the pitiful demon off with a series of point-blank gunshots to its head, and pulled the blade from its abdomen, stepping away to avoid getting its foul blood on his boot.

Sparda cut through the thick webs that the Arachne had spun over the entrance to the lift, and sheathed his sword as he stepped on. He looked for a switch or a lever of some sort, but the elevator shook and rumbled, and began to rise towards the next floor. To his recollection, the next floor held the fortress' opera house. Sparda would have to go through there before he could reach his objective.

* * *

A/N: Mwehehe, I love Mundus in this, just because he's so evil. The glass in the eye at the top was a nice touch too.

Now people, I see the number of hits increasing but only one new review? Come on, boost both mine and Blackmoon's egos. Review!


	8. Chapter 8

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Chapter Seven: Cedus Myotis

* * *

The lift reached the top, rattled, and came to a halt. The ending destination was an alcove at the entrance to a large lobby, bedecked in stone and red velvet. The torches on the walls flared into life as Sparda left the elevator, flooding the room with a warm glow. It was, quite unusually, empty, the only sounds coming from the soft crackle of the torch-fires. Sparda stepped across the antechamber to the closest door- it, too, was stone, covered in red leather, and set into a balcony with a set of stairs on either side. Sparda knew this place- it was the theater. He opted to bypass the nosebleed section and head straight for the front row. 

He pushed the door open and stepped into the theater proper. His armor's natural noise echoed in the silence of the great room as he walked down through the rows of seats. It was empty here, too, it seemed, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The door slammed behind him, as if for dramatic effect, and Sparda became aware that perhaps today's show would not be on the stage, per se.

He approached the stage, which was set up in the manner of a terrace- there were rows of stone steps leading to it, that began an arm's length from the front row. The black leather curtain slowly drew open, although that may not be the proper description. Rather, it dissolved, and was evident that the curtain was not made of leather, but live bats, which flew into a frenzy around the center of the stage. Sparda put a hand on his sword, wary of any unusual occurrences, and this most certainly qualified as one.

A shrill cackle rang out from the stage; the swarm of bats converged upon a single point, and a humanoid figure arose from it. Once the flurry of movement had ended, there stood a red-haired woman of pale green complexion, bare from the waist up and covering her lower half with a long skirt composed of the bats that seemed ever-present in the room. "Welcome, stranger," she cooed, her hair falling forward over her chest as she leaned in, and her grin displaying a vicious pair of fangs.

"Come to see the show?"

"I've no time for this, harlot," spat Sparda vehemently. He drew his blade, the metal glinting in the light of the torches. "Let me pass."

"My, what an impressive sword you have there, sir. Do you plan on using it on little old me?" She began moving forward, seemingly gliding across the ground, and suggestively placed a hand on Sparda's cheek. The Dark Knight- never one for frivolity- violently smacked her hand away, but the strange woman merely laughed again. She turned and headed back towards the stage.

"Well, they say it's not the size of the tool, it's how you use it... come on, boy, and we'll see if you're any good with that thing." She held her hand out, beckoningly, and was suddenly wreathed in electricity. Several of the bats on her dress sprang to life, bathed in demonic lightning, and arced forward at Sparda. He ducked out of the way and lunged for the lightning witch, but was forced to go on the defensive when they came back the other way. "Come on, sugar!" she taunted, holding her arms out wide. A sweeping wave of manifest darkness blindsided Sparda, throwing him to the floor, but he rolled over and withdrew his pistol, Luce, and opened fire.

His foe withdrew and summoned bats to intercept his fire, covering her exposed regions in shadow to compensate, but eventually her shielding was exhausted. Luce's bullet caught her in the shoulder, and she fell back with a shriek into a pool of blackness on the floor. Sparda leapt, and attacked- but just before the fatal blow fell, his sword was held fast by the witch's dark element. "Stop! I'll let you pass... I didn't think you could use something that big so well, but I was wrong."

Sparda sheathed his sword and pistol, and the woman slowly rose from the floor, laying a hand on his shoulder. The backstage curtain withdrew, and Sparda moved towards it, but was stopped. "If you have any more playmates for me, you handsome devil, be sure to send 'em my way," she said with a wink. The cloud of bats returned, swarmed her, and she disappeared into thin air once more.

Sparda looked back at the stage with a weary eye. "Now that that's over... I can continue my mission." He passed through the curtain and headed backstage; the stairway to the next floor was just beyond, and from there, Mundus awaited.

* * *

A/N:

Blackmoon: Hey, I get to throw sex into my fic without having it be totally lame. Ironically, it makes it MORE chronologically accurate, the only fic in the world that does that. If you wanna get more ironic about it, I didn't wanna put in the sex, but I had to for the sake of accuracy.

Twilight Scribe: A curtain of bats? Awesome! Can I get some of those for my room? Oh, and cookies to anyone who can guess what the chapter title means.


	9. Chapter 9

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Chapter Eight: Yamato, Ater Bellator ab Abyssus

* * *

Sparda emerged slowly from the stairwell, into a cavernous room with two rows of stone columns, each one adorned in human bones. He had barely registered where he was when a black figure came flying at him at superhuman speeds. Sparda instinctively pitched forward and rolled against the ground- steel glinted in the air over him and the doorway collapsed into rubble as the Dark Knight felt the weight of another creature on his back. He withdrew his pistols to try and fire at whatever stood atop him, but it leapt off at the last instant, standing before Sparda brazenly. 

This new demon's name was Yamato- a legionnaire in Mundus' army, and not a force to be taken lightly.

The beast Yamato had the rough shape and size of a man, but some key features stood out that distinguished it from any mortal. He had two ivory horns that protruded from his temples, upward at an angle; his flesh was a dark, menacing shade of blue bordering on being black, and he wore only a thick leather vest and a pair of light pants. Yamato's sword was not like Sparda's- it had a thinner edge, and curved along its length, resting at the moment in the sheath in its wielder's free hand.

"Sparda," said the beast, putting a hand on his sword, "it is time for you to die."

In an instant, he vanished, and before Sparda could reach his sword, Yamato had reappeared before him, sword unsheathed and moving forward for the kill. Sparda stopped the deadly steel with his own hand, embedding the blade within his clenched fist. There was a spray of blood as he reversed his grip on Yamato's sword, and used the newfound leverage to fling it against the wall- with Yamato still holding onto the other end.

Sparda's foe landed against the wall with both feet, and used it as a springboard to launch himself at Sparda once more. The Dark Knight ducked below the attack and followed through in an instant with an uppercut to Yamato's jaw, sending him flying into the air. Yet, once again, the nimble demon righted himself in midair and landed on the ground, adjusting his lower jaw from the force of the attack and sheathing his blade with a stylish flair.

"You're a veritable cat, aren't you, demon?" quipped Sparda.

"Please, Dark Knight- call me Yamato."

Yamato crouched for an instant, then disappeared again. The Dark Knight threw his shoulder forward just as the speed demon reappeared overhead, his sword attack striking Sparda's blade. Sparda drew the sword and turned, flipping Yamato over in midair. The two counterattacked simultaneously, swords clashing against each other with enough force to push their wielders backward. Sparda, however, was pushed off-balance- a disadvantage Yamato's reflexes avoided.

As soon as he hit the ground, the demon sheathed his sword in a flash. Barely a second passed, and Yamato leapt forward, nearly becoming a blur, and unleashing a new torrent of masterful attacks upon Sparda. Sparda's skill was not to be underestimated, either; despite the dizzying speeds, he managed to parry Yamato's attacks, deflecting the last with such force so as to ruin the lesser devil's fighting stance.

He looked as though he would teleport out of harm's way when Sparda pulled back for the riposte, but the Dark Knight took full advantage of the situation. With lightning scroll, his free hand leapt to a pistol, withdrew it, and fired a shot directly into Yamato's thigh. The devil doubled over, and Sparda attempted the killing blow. However, devils are quite resilient, and Yamato recovered in time to avoid being skewered- although not completely unscathed. Sparda's sword pierced through his foe's left shoulder, black blood spraying across the wall as the victim vanished again.

Sparda looked around the room for Yamato, when the demon's voice echoed out over the room, venomous and full of contempt: "This is the end."

Sparda wheeled around, and spotted his foe standing in the middle of the room. Just before he could get another crippling shot off, Yamato flared with a demonic aura, the air rippling around him. He blurred out of vision again, leaving a cracked crater in the stone floor. Sparda tightened the grip on his blade, fearing another surprise attack, when there was a rumbling sound throughout the chamber.

First, there was a flash, as of a swift blade glinting in the light- then the ground underneath it cracked, as before. Then, another flash, and a crack, closer still. Sparda stared in awe at the unholy sight before him- Yamato was moving so fast as to transcend light speed. Each assassin strike came closer and closer to the Dark Knight, the rumbling sound growing to a near-deafening roar.

One blow caught him by surprise- a deep gouge was left in his armor, cutting through to Sparda himself. He blocked the next, but the attacks came faster and faster, until he was forced to activate the extent of his own devil powers and dodge out of the way.

The light-speed duel continued on for several minutes- Sparda tiring from his nearly non-stop assault on the demonic domain, and Yamato tiring from a grievous injury. Sparda, however, was the first to fall.

As his devil powers weakened, he slipped over a loose, cracked stone, and hit the floor, rolling over on the spot as the invisible swordsman moved ever closer. It was win or lose- the next strike would determine the winner of the match, and both devils realized the fact. Sparda did the only thing he could. He flung his sword forward, spinning through the air, in the direction he thought his attacker to be.

It happened to land in a brief moment of vulnerability- the second after Yamato's slash passed over Sparda, the blade arced through, going straight through the left side of Yamato's chest, and sending him sprawling onto the ground, his own sword skittering across the floor. The blood sprayed through the air, drenching both opponents in ichor.

Sparda slowly got to his feet, and drew a single pistol.

"A dishonorable victory... but it was do or die. You understand."

Yamato held up a hand to halt Sparda, and spoke:

"Wait. I will help you... take my spirit, with my blessing... let it defeat evil in years to come."

His body and sword disappeared, leaving a glowing, frost-blue sphere hovering in air. It gravitated towards Sparda's outstretched hand, and reformed into an ornate katana, jet black, with a blue handle. He drew it to examine the blade, and it shimmered and howled in the light.

"...Thank you," he said, put the sword on his belt, and grabbed his own. It was time for the final act.

Sparda walked, solemnly, towards Mundus' chamber straight ahead.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

Chapter Ten: Nex Angelus

* * *

"Mundus!" rang out Sparda's voice as he threw open the chamber door. As it shut behind him, he began ascending the spiral staircase to the center. Mundus' voice, calm, yet sinister, called to him in return from the top: "Sparda... to think that you made it this far. I commend you." 

Sparda rounded the top of the central platform, passing between the statues around its perimeter. "Save your breath, fallen one. I've come here to take your life."

"I'm certain you have. The question is, do you have the skill, the motivation, to do so?"

"Your invasion of the mortal world had no provocation, no cause, no purpose other than senseless destruction. That is motivation enough to exterminate you."

Mundus laughed sharply as he leaned forward and rose from his kneeling position. "Your mind seems set. Hm. Such a shame- you would've been a valuable asset to my army."

"You're stalling!" shouted Sparda, his face contorted with rage. He leapt forward across the dais, drawing Yamato for the attack. Mundus spread his wings at the last second and leapt over Sparda's attack, knocking him to the ground with a kick to the back of the head. Mundus landed softly on the ground and turned to face his rival.

"When will you learn, oh great Sparda?" he spat, crossing his arms arrogantly. "I am the Prince of Darkness, the Black Lord of the Demon World. I have subjugated each and every devil in my domain- there is no conceivable way you could defeat me!"

"As long as I draw breath, I will still fight!"

Sparda leapt from the floor, drawing his own blade with his free hand. With a whirl, he brought both against Mundus, who leapt back from the path of the dual swords. He muttered something under his breath, holding a hand up before his face; the air seemed to warp and shimmer, then shattered like glass, revealing a lengthy broadsword in his clenched fist. The hilt had a wicked demonic head upon it, one that seemed to have an expression as though howling in agony.

Mundus swung the blade to his side. "There is simply no convincing you, is there? Well, once you are dead, my rule over the human and demon realms will be uncontested. En garde!" With a vicious, growling battle cry, he charged forward. Sparda matched his foe, dashing towards the fallen angel with both blades at the ready.

Mundus was the first to strike. Sparda deflected the overhead cut with his sword, and followed through with a rising diagonal blow from Yamato. Mundus jumped back again, using his powerful wings to lift himself into the air. Energy bubbled and flared in the black angel's left hand, and he thrust it forward, sending a beam of raw power at the Dark Knight. Sparda jumped out of the way as the energy blew a hole through the floor; he landed on the top of an angel statue and kicked off again, launching himself through the air at Mundus.

There was a look of shock on the fallen one's face, and he brought up his broadsword to block the sudden attack. The fight had been taken to the air now. Sparda kept himself aloft with the aid of his own wings, and created lift with his repeated blows with the two swords. None of his attacks connected, but the assault was substantial enough in raw power to prevent Mundus from countering. The dark one grew tired of being on the defensive, and unleashed a tremendous burst of demonic energy.

There was a flash of red light, and the statues on the floor around them cracked. The force threw Sparda back to the ground as Mundus crackled and flared with an unholy light. His muscle mass seemed to double, and each of his three eyes had become little more than a pit of blackness, brimming with the power that so very few devils possessed. Mundus dropped to the ground, and then kicked off again, in a low, wing-assisted leap, moving at incredible speed, meaning to skewer Sparda like a roast pig.

But the Dark Knight is not to be underestimated. Borrowing from the abilities of Yamato, whose soul of steel he now held in his right hand, Sparda ducked, and blurred. At the moment when Mundus would have assured his victory, Sparda disappeared, circling around his foe, and reappeared in midair, from where he delivered a mighty roundhouse kick to the back of Mundus' skull. There was a sickening crack, and the black angel rolled across the ground, off the edge of the dais.

Sparda thought victory to be his- surely nothing could survive a force such as that. But there was a flash from below the edge of the platform, and a scream of inhuman rage and frustration. "SPARDA!" bellowed Mundus, as he rose into view on devil's wings. He tossed his sword end over end into the air, and placed both hands together. Before Sparda knew what happened, he was caught in a great beam of dark red energy, which crushed the Dark Knight against the far wall. Mundus caught his own blade as it came back, and, in an effort much like Sparda himself had used before, flung the sword across the room at his foe.

Sparda was impaled against the wall, blood seeping from his wound and staining the stone a deep, nearly black shade of red. Rage crept across his features as Mundus stood, panting heavily at the other end of the dais, blood dripping now onto his once pristine wings as well. Sparda began to howl, first a low growl, growing eventually into an unholy sound of sheer, unbridled, maddening rage. His devil powers unleashed themselves in a burst of fire-orange energy, sending Mundus' sword from his body and turning the better part of the wall into rubble.

The two both glowed now, one with a dark red aura, and the other brimming with what seemed to be the very flames of Hell. Sparda attacked first, leaping from the rubble to his foe. His first attack failed- Mundus seized Yamato in his hand, a gout of blood spurting into the air, and he flung the sword across the stage. As Sparda brought down his remaining sword for the next attack, Mundus ducked and seized his own, locking blades at the last moment. The metal ground together, and sparks flew; the two rival devils pushed at the same time, and the weapons flew from their hands to the ground on opposite sides of the dais.

Then, an unexpected turnaround- as Mundus ducked to run for his, Sparda growled and bashed the back of the black angel's skull again with his elbow. Mundus coughed up blood and collapsed to the floor, appalled that the Dark Knight would stoop to such tactics. "You filth--!" he cursed, and rolled back onto his feet. Sparda bobbed and feinted deceptively, then rushed in to deliver a punishing uppercut.

Mundus sidestepped, seizing Sparda's hand, and threw a curving punch into the side of the Dark Knight's head; however, the attack was intercepted, and Sparda swung around, delivering a kick to Mundus' side.

Blows were exchanged in this manner for quite some time, with neither fighter being the clear victor. After a while, Sparda jumped and planted both feet onto his opponent's chest. Flipping backwards, he kicked off with enough force to send Mundus rolling across the floor, both foes ending up with their blades at opposite ends of the arena. As the feathers of Mundus' wings fell to the ground, they both seized their swords. The fight lost no momentum as the two charged each other, screaming in a murderous rage. The world was a haze to them.

Both attacks came out at the same instant- but Sparda's reflexes barely saved him. He ducked under Mundus' attack, and caught his foe in the gut with his sword. Blood sprayed through the air as Mundus was forced through the wall into Yamato's antechamber by the power of the attack. Sparda fetched Yamato and ran into the room after him.

Mundus was there- his sword lay discarded across the room, at the foot of one of the pillars. He breath was ragged, and the trail of thick, dark blood went all the way to where he landed- the wound was too big for even demon power to reseal at this point. He would probably not die from it, but the winner of the fight was clear.

The Legendary Dark Knight's boots clanked against the stone floor, the only sound in the room aside from Mundus struggling to breathe. "Mundus," he called out, "it's over. Your insurrection has been stopped- and you will not have the chance to repeat your actions again. I will make sure of that."

Mundus seemed to be terrified as Sparda stood menacingly over him. "Good night," said the Dark Knight, and left the black angel unconscious with a boot to the face. Sparda looked at his own hands, covered in his own blood and the blood of his enemies. His burning aura slowly faded away. "What have I become?" he muttered to himself. "The humans- those I worked so hard to save- as long as I have this sort of power, none of them are safe. The demons will come after me. I may not be able to restrain myself. I cannot allow this kind of power to remain in the world."

He slowly looked upwards, to the ceiling, as though looking at heaven. "I know what I must do."

* * *

Epilogue: Devil Sunday

* * *

Sparda sat back in his chair, in his new home. It was a comfortable little villa in the countryside, a far cry from the gothic castles and manors he had become accustomed to in his stay in the demon world. To make sure the devils would never get loose again, he constructed a massive tower- the Temen-Ni-Gru- and sealed it far underground. It was as a massive nail, sealing shut the boundary between the two worlds. One which not even Mundus would be able to break with his own power. 

He had sealed it with his own blood, two amulets, and the blood of a mortal priestess. In an effort to fully prevent any harm from coming to the human world, he even went so far as to seal his own power on the other side- he left his demonic power with the demon sword that bore his own name, which had reverted to the blade known as Force Edge without its bearer. He still kept Yamato and Mundus' sword, which he had named Rebellion- the skull on the handle had since changed, and no longer bore a vicious howl, but rather appeared more subdued- as mementos of his victory; trophies of war, if you will.

In leaving behind his demonic power, he also left behind his demonic form, adopting, instead, a half-demon's body, with the guise of a normal mortal. He had shock-white hair, sharp features, piercing eyes, and a toned physique, and had since taken to wearing a monocle with a purple-and-red duster most days (as he felt it made him look more stylish). He had also begun to take a fancy to a human woman named Eva in recent times.

They were calmer times- times without fear, where there was no worry of attacks by demons. There were still some who revered evil, but they were few and far between. Sparda sighed, and, with a smirk, took a sip of his wine as he gazed out about the countryside. Evil, he felt, would not return for a long time.

* * *

AN: 

Blackmoon: What happened next? Nothing, really. I took care of all the remaining plot holes and that was it. I still have a job to do that's far from done, which is to write another DMC fic. I need to ensure that unknown plot points never come about again. And Vergil promised to help me write about the demons, even though he's part one himself. The end? Don't bet on it! This party's gettin' crazy- let's rock!

T. Scribe: You've been talking to Vergil? Why didn't you tell me?


End file.
